Sweetness of Summer

For months, the humidity seeped through the cracks in doors, dampening foreheads with sweat.  

Temperatures climbed upwards, causing us to spend days playing in water or retreating to the coolness of the library.

Playing at the park meant ponytails to keep hair off our necks and baths every night to scrub away the thin film of sunscreen, sweat, and dirt unique to little boys enamored with feeding wood chips to plastic dinosaurs and the little stone turtle in our backyard.

We lingered in wayward sprinklers on neighborhood walks.

Slid feet into sandals and flip flops and Crocs.

Ignored the back-to-school sales and the days slipping by on the calendar.

Rode the lazy days and evenings towards Labor Day without realizing how near that weekend loomed.

Then, September.

Labor Day in Michigan marks the change of seasons more than the autumnal equinox. 

Even if the temperature climbs back into summer-like heat, we have already pushed aside our swimsuits to make room for sweaters, and the heat is just a reminder of what lies in wait at the end of a long winter.

Years ago, my family welcomed fall with a soccer tournament at the Peach Festival, a Labor Day celebration in a nearby community.

This year, I decided the kids would experience the Peach Festival for their first time.

And they did.

And the experience was nothing like I imagined.

Driving as a passenger with my mom meant not really needing to pay attention to where we were going all those years.  With Ryan in buckled down study mode, I scoured the website map and still drove to the wrong location on my own.

Friday and Saturday were sweltering, and Saturday’s storms cooled things down for the remainder of the weekend, possibly a little too much.

With the temperature dropping by the minute, we wore hoodies and wandered around the craft show tents with sides, to block the wind.  I found myself wishing for pants or gloves or my comfortable brown boots as I tried to indulge the kids on the swings for a while.

My hair stuck in my lip balm; I used more than several tissues chasing running noses around the playground. 

Six eyes watered from the wind, and I let myself slide into thinking maybe I should have waited another year, a warmer year, a year Ryan could have joined us.

But then Abbey saw the farmers' market stands and forgot the wind.

Carefully, she inspected the four peaches in each "cute little basket" until finding the perfect combination.

And in the car, out of the wind, we enjoyed a few last bites of summer.

not a fan of the peaches

maybe he's waiting for fresh picked apples this fall

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